The Early Bird Gets the Worm
by P3ac3fulFor3st
Summary: In which Jack's mouth gets him into trouble. Chase/Jack one-shot, kinda very limey.


_AN: Hey, y'all! In the midst of working on Delicate, I had a spark of inspiration. So here's a fun, lil one-shot just for you. Typical disclaimer (do we even rly need these on this site?): I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this fic; they all belong to the goddess Christy Hui. I also do not own Keurig or Hot Pockets (sadly). However, the Early Bird is a Wu of my own invention._

 _Enjoy!_

 _ **-oOo- THE EARLY BIRD GETS THE WORM -oOo-**_

Jack Spicer hit the ground running, arms pumping like pistons. He needed this Shen Gong Wu badly. The Early Bird was a Wu that would retrieve lost things for you. Of course, such a simple idea could be catastrophic in the wrong hands with the right brain. Jack, as forgetful as he was, didn't necessarily plan to use it just for finding his left boot. No, he was thinking more along the lines of Shen Gong Wu lost to the monks and lost time, lost hope and lost ideas.

How about lost souls? That was the reason Chase Young was there. Of course, he wasn't about to voice that to Spicer yet he found himself racing the youth for the Early Bird. Jack had gotten faster; years of being beat down had finally spurred him into taking his physical condition seriously. He'd grown from an awkward, gangly teenager into a lean, lightly-muscled young adult. Finally, a true threat to Chase. And a very attractive one at that, he couldn't help admitting.

Typically, the monks would also be after the Shen Gong Wu. Unfortunately for them, Hannibal Roy Bean also had his beady little eyes on the Early Bird as well and was holding them up. Chase and Jack, however, using sneak tactics, had managed to escape Bean's disgusting tendrils. Jack's hand slapped down on top of the Wu at the same time as Chase's and the familiar glow began.

"Spicer, I challenge you to a Xiaolin Showdown!"

"Name your game, Chase."

"A simple game of balance. Whoever can knock the other off the beams is the winner," Jack grit his teeth; he was clumsy as hell and Chase knew it. Chase smirked, slitted eyes flashing, "And to make things interesting, why not a little wager?"

"What exactly did you have in mind?" Jack grumbled, not at all liking where this was going.

"If I win, you will owe me a favor of my choosing effective immediately after the Showdown."

"Um… Okay…? In that case, if I win, you'll owe me a favor."

"It's a deal."

Jack swallowed as his throat went very dry. Images of what he could have Chase do if he won this Showdown flashed through his mind. Images of his hands on Chase's sculpted body, of Chase's lips and teeth on his throat, of Chase and him tangled together in dark sheets… His gaze hardened as he stared Chase down. He would win this Showdown. He had to.

He didn't.

Instead Jack hit the ground hard, groaning. Chase landed on his feet beside him much like one of his jungle cats: with grace and finesse. So much for that, he reflected with no small amount of bitterness. Whatever Chase had him do for this favor, he knew it had to be unpleasant.

Wu in one hand, Chase offered his other hand to Jack, who blinked in surprise. He took it slowly, nervousness rolling in his stomach for Chase's smirk had taken on a predatory edge. He stood, brushing himself off, refraining from the instinct to rub his behind where he'd landed.

Heylin magic encircled them, lifting their hair and teleporting them away to Chase's citadel. The throne room to be exact. Jack huffed.

"Alright, Chase, what is this favor you need done? Is it cleaning up after Cyclops? Because I am so done with his dumb, mammoth-sized butt-!"

"On your knees."

Jack blinked in confusion, not quite sure he heard right.

"What?"

"On. Your. Knees." Chase repeated himself, not an ounce of regret on his sharp features. Jack gaped at him, face going very red very fast.

"U-um, Chase, dude, you're gonna have to elaborate on what exactly you want 'cause my mind is going all sorts of dirty places-!"

"Then we're on the same page," Chase clarified, head tilting to one side as he untied his sash, "Good. Now… _Kneel_."

Jack's knees buckled of their own accord and even if it did hurt on the tiled floor, he dare not move. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as realization hit him. This was happening. Even without him winning the Showdown, this was happening. He licked his lips nervously as Chase stepped forward, brushing Jack's hair back. He gripped it tightly, possessively, drawing a whimper.

"Good," Chase all but purred, "You'll enjoy this, Spicer, I promise…"

 **-oOo-**

Jack blinked, the world coming back into sharp focus. He shook his head to clear it of his little fantasy. He was standing off to the side on a suspended rocky platform, watching Chase and Omi compete for the Early Bird, the latest Shen Gong Wu.

He pouted. He wasn't any stronger than his younger self. He was still a limp noodle, even at 18. Chase and Omi had both gotten to the Early Bird faster than anyone else. It wasn't fair, he mused, watching Chase execute a perfect roundhouse kick. Chase wouldn't spare him a sideways glance with the trained monks around. He wished he would. Oh, how he wished his would.

"Keep dreaming, Spicer," Jack muttered to himself, eyes trained on Chase, "He'd never let you blow him."

Chase paused in his Mantis Strike and tilted his head in his direction. It's when a slow smirk appeared on his face that Jack was hit with the horrible realization that Chase probably had enhanced hearing. Or, at the very least, a really good ear. Jack's eyes went wide, face catching fire. Activating his helipack with fumbling fingers, he left hastily, beyond embarrassed. He could never see Chase again. Stupid, stupid, _stupid!_

 **-oOo-**

Never once had Jack seriously contemplated suicide in order to escape from his problems. But now, the option was incredibly tempting. Deeming that idea too much work, he settled on making himself another cup of coffee.

It'd been roughly a month since the Showdown for the Early Bird. A month since his little fantasy. A month since Chase Young heard his wayward comment on giving the warlord a blowjob. Jack groaned, banging his head against his work table repeatedly.

And so, here he was, isolating himself from society due to utter mortification. He hadn't left the house, choosing instead to throw himself into his robotics, really only leaving the basement lab to bathe, eat, and sleep. God forbid he risk going to retrieve a Shen Gong Wu and have the misfortune of running into Chase. Logically, Jack knew he was being silly; evil geniuses couldn't survive on Hot Pockets and pudding cups alone. Eventually, he'd have to integrate himself back into reality and face the music. He just wasn't quite ready yet.

He yawned, scratching one leg with his foot as he waited for the Keurig to finish brewing his coffee. He looked an absolute mess, he knew it. There was no point in hair gel and make-up if there was no one to see it. He'd somehow lost a fuzzy sock in the midst of the mid-afternoon nap but he was too lazy to locate it in the mess of blankets that was his bed.

The Keurig played its little jingle and he hummed appreciatively as he took a sip of his hazelnut latte. He didn't see the black swirls of magic at the far end of his lab.

Chase Young stepped forward silently. He regarded the young man before him. Typically, Spicer was hidden under that ridiculously bulky trench coat he insisted on wearing everywhere but today? He was in gray sweatpants and a black tank top that accentuated his slender frame and for a moment, Chase almost lost his nerve.

He cleared his throat. Jack spun around with an ear-shattering, teeth-rattling shriek. How he managed not to drop his coffee was beyond Chase and it took everything he had to keep his expression blank; Jack looked far more attractive than usual with his hair framing his quickly reddening face.

"Ch-Chase!" He gasped out, "Wh-what are you-?"

"There have been two Shen Gong Wu activated in the past month, Spicer," Chase pointed out, tone even, "And you haven't shown up for either event."

"I-I was… I was…!" Jack floundered for some reasonable explanation even though he knew Chase knew _exactly_ why he'd been missing in action. It was then that Jack realized… Chase looked different. Instead of wearing his usual armor, he was clad in black pants and a dark green chángshān. His hair was pulled over one shoulder and tied with a golden cord and Jack? Jack was struck speechless. Chase crossed his arms, head cocking to one side in impatience. Finally, Jack managed to whimper, "Please don't kill me."

"Oh, please, Spicer," Chase rolled his eyes, "If I had a stone for every thinly-veiled sexual comment directed at me, I could build a replica of the Great Wall to scale. Twice."

"So… You're not mad?" Jack asked slowly, relaxing just enough to take a sip of coffee.

"On the contrary," Chase mused, walking past Jack to examine the machines on his work table, "I'm flattered."

Jack sprayed out his mouthful of coffee, succumbing to a coughing fit. Chase half-turned, watching him struggle to breathe in smug satisfaction.

"F-flattered?"

"Yes, very," Chase shrugged nonchalantly, as if this conversation was one they had often, "It's nice to know other find me attractive enough to want to engage in sexual activities with me."

Jack couldn't risk another sip of coffee. He'd either choke and die, or worse, spray Chase with coffee… And die. He set his mug down, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"Well, yeah," Jack said slowly, "I mean, have you looked in a mirror lately?"

"This morning."

"You're definitely attractive."

"You think so?"

Of course, Chase knew he was attractive. He just wanted to hear Jack Spicer say it. Not just for the ego stroke either, as if he needed one. More as a reassurance before he took what he wanted. Jack, for all his worth, shot Chase a look of absolute disbelief.

"Chase… Good grief, if the Seven Deadly Sins had advertisements, you'd the poster boy for lust."

"… Go on," Chase goaded, taking a seat in Jack's swivel chair, crossing his legs, "What about me do you find attractive?"

"Is this a punishment of some sort?" Jack squeaked, rubbing his arm self-self-consciously as he tried to look everywhere but at Chase. The man in question stared Jack down from over his steepled fingers.

"Just answer the damn question, Spicer."

"Well… Your hair. It's like… All long and shiny and silky soft. Like, yeah, it's black but for some reason, when the light hits it? It's like, bam! It has this… Green sheen to it? It makes me just wanna…" He made a frustrated movement with his hands to express his deep-seated longing to touch Chase's hair and Chase cocked an eyebrow, "And then your eyes! They're scary as shit, don't get me wrong, but they're… I dunno, like gold. Not just the color but actual molten gold." As he spoke, Jack's voice grew stronger, confidence growing as the other man had yet to silence him, "Also, Chase, your cheekbones and jawline make you look… Regal. Refined. Like you're royalty or something. Like you belong on a throne somewhere, not on a battlefield and especially among monks and worms like me. You've also got a killer body. Seriously, damn. I've never seen you shirtless but I bet-!"

Chase had heard quite enough. In one fluid movement, he rose from the chair and moved to Jack. He gripped his upper arms and crushed their lips together, drawing a surprised squawk from the youth. Chase took this opportunity to deepen the kiss. Jack moaned into his mouth, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Chase's hair. He vaguely thought that the green-black tresses were just as soft as he'd fantasized they would be. Chase broke the desperate kiss slowly, taking in Jack's glazed half-lidded eyes and swollen lips. He smirked slightly. Finally.

"On your knees."

Jack didn't need to be told twice.

 **-oOo-**

 _AN: Hope you liked it :D I don't do lemons, I only do limes... I feel like the Chase/Jack subgenre gets a lot of raunchy fics. So I hope you enjoyed reading something slightly different._

 _-P3ac3fulFor3st_


End file.
